the routine gets old. living in a social media hungry world is an oddity, where anxiety around our identity and relevance is in constant question – if we come to rely on the regular fix of “likes” and other such nonsense.

we believe if we stop posting filler and quotables, use incorrect hashtags or format, or don’t invest in ad campaigns, that we’d quickly fade from feeds and thus any significance. so strange, and so empty. what it does, is exacerbate the superficiality of the medium, and the thinly veiled desperation we feel in our ongoing need to belong.

of course, as with anything we explore through our multifaceted human experience, it eventually distills down to less bullshit and more substance.

you can buy followers, likes, and by extension, some kind of notoriety. but just like in tv, music, film and fiction writing, it’s a misrepresentation. men aren’t generally how they’re portrayed in shows, videos and movies, and neither are women. so, identifying with the fictional, while potentially expansive, is rarely genuine and authentic.

and we have been gluttons for the inauthentic. the pervasive underlying unsettled madness and desperation we pretend to ignore is telling, and must be acknowledged, and healed.

make real connections. make eye contact. trip over your words, and struggle with expressing yourself. embarrass yourself. take a breath. shed a tear. feel misunderstood. ask for help. try again.

hold the sacred space, and know it’s being held for you.

be real. be curious. be you.

love your life

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